


The Day Monika Moved Away

by PlasmaBooks



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/F, I am so sad, death in here, please forgive me guys, very sad story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasmaBooks/pseuds/PlasmaBooks
Summary: As long as she lives, she knows she'll never forget the day Monika moved away.





	The Day Monika Moved Away

The first time I had heard the rumor, I had completely dismissed it as being just that - a silly rumor meant to get her name spread around the school. I had carried my way in peace, going about my day and enjoying club time in the company of my friends as I had always done. 

 

The second time I had heard the rumor, I dismissed it again, albeit with more struggle. It was just a fib the “its” were telling, because they were bored and they wanted one more good slice of gossip before the school year ended.

 

The third time I had heard the rumor, it was from one of my closest friends. I feigned disgust and lectured them about “spreading the lies”, but I think deep down inside, the third time I heard it was the time I actually began to believe it. 

 

I knew the pain of rumors from firsthand experiences, and though I doubted this one could be as harmful to her as my rumors were to me, I forced myself to feign indifference whenever I was asked to give my opinion on the topic. 

 

The fourth time I heard the rumor, I had to escape the classroom and take some time to cry in a bathroom stall. I was in there for a while and eventually forced to leave; a crowd of the “its” had come in and began gossiping about other people, and I didn’t feel like sticking around to listen. Part of me was afraid that they would start talking about the rumor. I didn’t want another panic attack, nor did I want to hear about the stupid lie again. 

 

I didn’t want to face the fact that Monika Hinode, the love of my life (and completely unaware of this), was moving away. 

 

Calling it a “fact” at that time was mostly of blind following. I remember holding onto the last little bit of hope that it was still all just a rumor. I remember absolutely clinging to it, as if it were the only lifeboat in the middle of an angry ocean.

 

It  _ had  _ to be a simple rumor. 

 

If I had grown to know Monika at all over the past four years, I knew she wouldn’t make any decisions like that without telling us way before she actually left. And with the rumor spread around the school like that, there’s no way she couldn’t have heard. She has a way of hearing just about anything. 

 

With new hope in my sore, anxiety-ridden heart, I waited for the only way I could ever believe such a silly rumor - Monika’s verbal, face-to-face confirmation. 

 

It never came. 

 

As the days turned to weeks and all of it passed, word of the rumor died down, for which I was incredibly grateful. I even began to forget about it completely; by the time the very last day of school had rolled around, it was actually the least of my problems. 

 

I remember sitting down in the clubroom that day, my mind swarmed with thoughts about things I could do to pass time that Summer, along with ideas about jobs and all the other insanely demanding things I was about to face in Real Life. I remember seeing Monika step into the room, dressed completely out of uniform because she wanted to rebel on the last day of school when the staff couldn’t do anything. I remember her taking her spot at the podium, and I remember the confusion rumbling through my bones as she gave out the call, 

 

“Okay, everyone!” 

 

That call was the signal for us to share our poems, but we had written none. We weren’t instructed to - in fact, we were told against it. 

 

She must have seen our confusion, because she immediately went to clarify, 

 

“I have something I need to tell you guys.” 

 

The aura in the room changed immediately; she was sad, and I should have seen it in her eyes first, but I only caught it in her voice. 

 

I remember my heart rate picking up with panic as the memory of the rumor came full force into the front of my mind. 

 

_ Oh god. _

 

I remember the tense seconds leading up to the next words. I remember seeing her mouth open, hearing her say those dreaded words. 

 

I remember hearing her confirm the rumor. 

 

Monika Hinode was moving away. 

 

I spaced out, bothering not to stick around and hear what she had to say. I vaguely remember the group hug; we were all sad, but nothing could top what I was feeling. 

 

To say I was “distraught” would be an understatement. It felt like my entire world had stopped. I had put off my confession for so long - for  _ too _ long. And now it was too late. 

 

Part of me couldn't blame her; our town was great, but it’d definitely become boring to someone like Monika before long. There was a whole world out there to be explored. 

 

I tried to tell myself I was happy for her, that I was happy she'd be getting a chance to see something besides our town. 

 

But I couldn't bear it. 

 

I  _ wasn't  _ happy. 

 

The rest of the day I spent in silence, in the biggest battle between my brain and I. 

 

Part of my brain was saying I needed to confess. Part of my brain was saying I couldn't.

 

The irrational fear that she’d be freaked out and would block me, taking away my last way of talking to her, clouded my judgement. 

 

I remember heading for the car lot at the end of the school day - the  _ last  _ school day - and seeing Monika loading some stuff into the front passenger seat of her car. From a little ways away I watched her, seeing the wind gently tug at her hair and her cream sundress. 

 

I remember her turning, to do what I am still unsure, and spotting me. 

 

I remember seeing a smile - a smile combined with happiness, a smile that could calm storms. I remember her hand going up over her head with her palm facing me. I remember the wave - the way her hand slowly moved through the air. I even remember waving back.

 

I should have stopped her. I should have tore down the hill after her and finally let free the words I had shut away for over three years. But I didn't. 

 

I should have shouted at her. I should have told her “wait” or “stop” or “don't go, I need you”. But I didn't. 

 

All I did was watch as she got in her car. All I did was watch as she pulled out of her parking space. All I did was watch as she drove her car through the parking lot, gently coaxed it around the exit curve, stopped one time, pressed the car forward, and then took off down the road. 

 

And that was the last time I ever saw Monika Hinode. 

 

Her parents say it happened instantly, and that there was no pain. They say when the drunk driver sent his car barreling into the side of her’s, she died on impact. 

 

That's what I want to believe. I want to believe it was quick. 

 

If it is truly real, and I have not been stuck in some long, horrible nightmare, I want to believe she died quick. 

 

I remember getting the call thirty-four hours after it happened. I remember not recognizing the number, but pressing the green “answer” button anyway, expecting to hear an automated voice message.

 

I remember hearing Monika’s mother and her teary voice, asking me if I had heard the news. 

 

I remember my stomach coiling in fear. I remember anxiety seizing my heart. I remember my next reply, my shaking, fearful “no.” 

 

I think I already knew what had happened, albeit something more vague. I think I knew the world had snatched my only love away from me. 

 

I remember the intense pain of being right. I remember sinking to the floor, the phone still in my hands, with Monika’s mom sobbing on the other line. I remember the hot tears, bubbling over their brims and pouring down. 

 

And I remember my screams. 

 

Pointless, mindless screams. They held all my anguish in them, yet I couldn't stop making the noise. Monika’s mom eventually disconnected the call to go dry her eyes, but I continued. I wailed over and over, unable to stop, grief stealing all my words and only leaving me with such a horrible, loud noise. 

 

I remember losing air, not caring to breathe in the midst of my anguish. 

 

I don't remember passing out. I only remember waking up. 

 

The memory of what had just happened brought me to weak tears again. I did not scream; no amount of anguish could draw the sound out again. 

 

I remember laying on the cold kitchen floor, my cheek against faux tile. I remember feeling the tears from my left eye sink in between my cheek and the floor. I remember feeling the tears from my right eye slither down the bridge of my nose and over my top lip. Each one would get stuck in the the dip between top and bottom, and they would never get out. 

 

Still, I did not scream. 

 

All I could do was lay there on that floor, and pray that somehow this was all a nightmare. 

 

I remember knowing it was all real. I remember slowly accepting defeat, completely going numb and giving up. And I remember thinking that this would be with me for the rest of my life. 

 

I remember being right. 

 

I would never forget the day Monika Hinode moved away. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I cried three times writing this. I hope you all cry reading it. That's my goal here. Gimme tears. 
> 
> Comments > Kudos > Anything Else


End file.
